The Tale of Cystus the Malignant Part 4: Blue to Black

From 2d4chan
Jump to navigation Jump to search

“We’ve got an incoming transmission from The Necrophagia, Brother Sicarius, shall I open channels?” Veteran Brother Devastator Pracius Oriomedes asked, his helmet discarded for the time being, meltagun similarly removed, both unneeded for communications detail. Brother Captain Cato Sicarius of the Second Company of the Ultramarines sighed, it had finally begun, the attack on the supposed threat that required the ENTIRE Ultramarine legion, this lone, decrepit vessel. He’d almost assumed the high lords had mistaken it for the dread Terminus Est, but it was clearly its own craft. “Have the chaplains begin their purifying rituals, we shan’t have chaos tainting us today."

Cystus tapped the Claws of Syphilius upon his filth encrusted chair, already growing bored of the blue blockade in front of him. If he was a rasher thinker, he would have already launched a boarding party towards them. Fools that thought like that usually experienced less success than the bumbling idiot leading the black legion. Behind him two figures stood watch, both distinct in appearance and mannerisms.

The taller one, formerly an Ogryn named Rig, now known as GutRig, fidgeted with his loose fingernails, blackened, chipped teeth pried off yellowed nails with sickening ease. Unlike his “brother”, Rig never once felt the overwhelming stagnant inaction, taking to further improving his bright red muscles. “Errr bozz? Whyz dey not talkin’ yet?” The Ogryn questioned, scratching the top of his bald head, chunks of dried pus and moss, along with chunks of skin flaking away. Cystus softly chuckled, Rig’s boundless questioning and energy made him feel like a father teaching his son the ways of the galaxy. “Dear child, it is simply because the fools believe they can protect themselves from my words, but no litany can stop the doctrine of Grandfather Nurgle”

Rousing from his perpetual inactivity, the former Kriegsman Cedric Inagrus, now branded as Sepsys Inflamatus, Nurgle’s bile vessel, began to gurgle out a croaking response of his own “Why should we even bother to engage them? They, like all else, will fall to entropy, stagnant remnants of foolish empires.” Sepsys mused, great maw occasionally drooling forth bloated leeches filled with curdled pus and miasmatic fumes. It was these leeches, Cystus eventually came to learn from his prayers with Grandfather, that marked Sepsys’ wondrous plague. Nurgle had gifted both of his children, however, what it was that Rig was gifted, was not yet known. The three could only wait to find out. “Ah Sepsys my child, you have finally graced us with your voice! While I would agree, these poor souls cannot see the futility of their actions, and they would sooner attack us than embrace entropy like we have.”

It was only when the grimy, cracked screen flickered to life with the cobalt blue armor of Cato Sicarius did they cease their chatter. The brother captain looked amusingly reviled, yet it was admirable he had not yet vomited. “I presume you are the supposed Malignant One then?” Sicarius questioned, voice sturdy, the hymns of chaplains faintly audible in the distance. “Ah, at last, the brother captain of the famed second company has graced us! Yes, child, I am Cystus The Malignant!” He bellowed with grand flourish. Even as a Nurglic, Cystus had a sense of showmanship, which is why he remained seated, his children of rot shrouded in darkness behind him.

Cato Sicarius had to visibly restrain himself from retching at the slightest movement from the bloated pus sac. It was only by the Emperor’s will he remained strong in his duties. Nearby, Brother Pracius had already begun averting his eyes, such heresy was not wise to be gazed upon. “I find it odd we have yet to hear about you, warp spawn. You seem to be a man of great bluster, with little to support his claims of destruction. Are you positive you do not take false credit for Typhus’ endeavors?”

Cystus gripped the arms of his chair tight. He would dare make such bold accusations? This man knows not of the respect Cystus had for Lord Typhus the Traveler. And worse yet, he would try to discredit his great works of art? He would show this fool. “You have not heard of my work because there are none to tell of it. I have left scores of worlds rotting in my wake. Perhaps…a demonstration is in order?” He let out a gurgling chuckle, green mist spewing forth from his clawed hand.

For all their might, the chaplains could have never protected anyone aboard the ship. All mortals, human, astartes, mutant, they all carried disease, whether they felt it or not. It was through this, Cystus made many suffer. Cato had only begun to laugh it what he assumed was a failed attempt to show power when he was cut off mid laugh by blood curdling screams.

At the communications array, Veteran Brother Devastator Pracius Oriomedes writhed and convulsed as his skin literally crawled about. His eyes began to show thousands of popped vessels, until they went pure black from blood, then spewed forth their precious lifeblood. Gibbering from his mouth, his teeth yellowed and blackened, simply slipping from their green gums as his tongue turned blue, swelling with pus and filth. Against all odds, his blessed ceramite armor had rotted away before him, leaving his body visible to all. Beneath his horrid face, skin began to turn various colors, becoming loose, slaking off bone like well cooked fenrisian meat. From behind, a great flood of excrement evacuated from his bowels, followed by blood, and then, his entrails. But it was his stomach that garnered the most attention. Bloating further and further, the black carapace had split long ago, its sickening crack heard well enough by all present. It billowed forth, untold contagions brewing within, until, all at once, his stomach dissolved, releasing nothing, nary even a single microbe. Uttering out a last choking cry for help, Pracius Oriomedes fell to the ground, every inch of his body rapidly putrefying to a viscous mucus on the floor.

“You…YOU FOUL ABOMINATION! HOW DARE YOU FORCE ONE OF MY MEN TO SUFFER SO CRUELLY!” Cato Sicarius screamed, tears for his fallen comrade hidden by his helmet, and from his voice by sheer rage. On the other end, Cystus did not laugh, he did not smile, he simply sighed.

“I do apologize, dear Sicarius…your brother in arms was no doubt a good man in his own rights…you may have even shared fond memories with him personally. I regret having to sacrifice him, but you refused to accept my power, and because of your actions, another had to die. However, I assure you, you are all in no danger, his body has released no contagions. I still wish to discuss civilly with you. I can only approximate the pain you are suffering right now, Captain Sicarius. I myself have grown fond of my own children…my children of rot. Come, my sons, step forth, allow him to see you.” From behind, a mutilated Ogryn, and an oversized, rotting slug moved forth, the sight of all three was enough to force Cato Sicarius to remove his helmet to void his stomach. “Those…those abominations are nothing like the man you just slaughtered. He was a proud servant to the holy empire! These filthy wretches are fit only to be vaporized by order of holy exterminatus!”

Cystus sighed. The captain saw only what he wanted to. “You have heard not my message once more, child. For this, your legion must atone.” With that, he waved his hand closest to Rig, the ritual circle beneath his feet glowing as it spewed forth sulfurus gases. In seconds, he disappeared.

Cato had no clue what he meant, until the vox channels flooded with orders and screams. Beneath him, Rig smashed his way through the chapter’s finest. Those who experienced even the slightest break of skin in proximity to the vulgar perversion of an Ogryn began to feel agony reserved usually for Slaaneshi slaves. No, it seemed Rig’s gift was a new form of the obliterator plague. As marines experienced searing pain from even a paper cut they had before hand, their entire bodies began to rework themselves. Beneath their armor, flesh violently fused with metal, stretching over the surface, contorting the armor into jagged displays of chaos might. Bolters and meltas bore into their hands like a chainsword through flesh. Fingers forever a simple design on the barrels, their arms reformed into cannons designed only to serve the ruinous powers. Those who did wield a sword of any sort soon found their forearms splitting as the blad found a new home amongst their flesh and bone. Those who were closer to each other fused with one another, conscious minds melding and screaming for independence, going mad in nanoseconds as their bodies mutated into metal monstrosities made to murder their former allies. Within seconds, most of the second company was decimated, and with a snap of his fingers, Rig was back on board. However, the afflicted still further mutated, becoming fused to the walls, eventually losing any sentience as they died from the rapid mutations.

“What…have you…done?!” The venerable captain breathed out, seething hatred barely kept in check. “I have allowed my son to display his own power. It would seem your men have suffered from the obliterator scourge. ‘Tis a shame, truly. Even if they still live, their conscious minds eventually fade as more and more metal fuses with them, eventually they cease to function, standing in place, rusting to nothingness.”

Cato Sicarius had felt many victories and few defeats. But nothing in his life would ever amount to the feeling of satisfaction when he killed this horrid bastard. “CHAPLAINS, SEND WORD TO THE ARTILLERY, HAVE THEM FIRE EVERYTHING!” Cystus gurgled with laughter “Dead, I assure you. The plague has swept all but you and your chaplains.” Cato could hardly believe it, but in truth it made sense. “Then you know you cannot harm us! We are protected by the fervor of our litanies.” Cystus did not even utter a word, simply waving his hand closest to Sepsys, and in a manner similar to Rig, he vanished.

Cato turned to witness the cavernous maw stretch wide as bloated leeches slithered forth. The chaplains continued their prayers right up until the leeches latched on. In mere moments, the leeches pumped their toxins into the chaplains’ bodies, rather than draining them of life. In another second, thy all summarily fell to the ground as a wriggling sensation tore through their body. In their final second, they witnessed thousands of black, Nurgle marked leeches spewing from every inch of their bodies, eating them to the bone. All their captain could do was watch with rapt horror as they died, and Sepsys left. From behind, the thunderous footsteps of a monolithic man echoed.

“Now, dear child, it is time you and I finished our business.” Cystus spoke, still wishing this could have ended differently. As he heard this, Cato Sicarius, brother captain of the second company of the Ultramarines righted his posture, and calmly placed his helmet back on, then unsheathed his power sword. “Indeed, Malignant One, it is time.” And with that he charged into a battle he knew he would lose. What he didn’t know, was how quickly that loss would come.

With a swipe of the sword, Cystus’ body dissolved into flies around it, and in a flash, Cystus had pierced through the armor of Cato Sicarius. One attack. One attack was all it took to finish him. As the claws of Syphillius leaked their toxins into his system, Cato could only shudder as his body began to go cold. In his final few moments awake, he heard something he thought impossible. Cystus The Malignant, as he killed the same man, gave Brother Captain Cato Sicarius the Emperor’s peace. “Rest child, Grandfather has commended you for your resiliency so far. You have earned thy paradise.” He spoke softly, voice replaced with a one free of phlegm, an old, withered voice, full of sorrow and regret. In his final second alive, Cato Sicarius smiled, he had died fighting, and was given his reward for it.

After this, Cystus sighed, and went to the comms array. He sent one final message to Holy Terra, one that made two of the high lords commit suicide upon its viewing.

“They have failed. I am coming.”

Cystus' Saga[edit]

Retrieved from "http://23.235.193.55/mediawiki/index.php?title=The_Tale_of_Cystus_the_Malignant_Part_4:_Blue_to_Black&oldid=500432"